


Nobody Asked

by beachtowel



Category: DCU
Genre: Blood and bleeding, Gen, Knives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14024952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beachtowel/pseuds/beachtowel
Summary: Dick and Jason meet each other for the first time.





	Nobody Asked

_ Then. _

 

There were certain duties Robin had to do, duties that weren't as glamorous as patrolling the city in a really cool mask to save the day. But duties that, nonetheless, Batman expected to be fulfilled and fulfilled well.

And they were Robin Duties for no other reason than the fact that it was only Robin that had to be reminded to clean up after himself. 

Dick remembered the night Robin duties came to be. Dick was suiting up in his spandex for their night patrol when Bruce called him over to the monitors, Alfred next to him. 

“You’re staying tonight,” Bruce said in his always-so-sensitive-and-caring, stoic voice. 

“What! Why!” Dick didn't finish all his homework that night for nothing.

Bruce raised his hand slowly to remind him of his volume, which Dick paid no mind to.

“There is work here that needs your tending to, work that Alfred shouldn't have to add to his load.” 

“WHAT are you talking about!” Little Dick pivoted on his heel, too energetic for the then stressful conversation. “My room is clean!” he lied smoothly, then confessed, “-ish!”

Bruce ignored that weak stance.

“I'm not talking about your responsibilities as Dick, I'm talking about your responsibilities as Robin. Follow me,” Bruce said as he pulled his cowl on, confident that Dick was following him to the couch chair at one of the many corners of the cave. 

Bruce pointed at the seat. 

“We brought in a rescue a week ago because you thought you could find a home better than the shelter could.”

“And I did!” Dick was quick to defend himself. “Old Lady Peach said Squiggles is the funniest dog she'd ever met!”

“Her name is Mrs. Apricoff,” Bruce corrected with a stern look, “and you're right, I looked into it and it was a great match. But there's still dog food on the ground even though he's been gone for 3 days now, and the chair is filled with his hair and urine.”

“Ok, but I can clean up for the dog after I come back,” Dick fought against rolling his eyes because he knew that ultimately it was still Bruce's roof he lived under for now, and he didn't want to mess that up.

“You will clean it now,” Bruce corrected again. “And Alfred will show you how to do it the right way.” Alfred, looking absolutely done with the set-up as Dick felt, gave Dick a half smile and an insincere “at your service.” 

“Make sure you check for fleas,” Bruce continued, “so if other animals ever come inside, they won't contract them. You will also clean the kitchen,” Bruce pointed over his shoulders at a sink that was filled with Dick’s half eaten oatmeal bowls from the last week or so. “As well as reshelf the resource library books that you've used for your data collection.” 

It hit Dick that Bruce was going to make him stay behind to  _ do chores.  _

Dick had caught on quickly that Bruce wasn't like his parents, and crying around Bruce wouldn't do anything but make Bruce feel uncomfortable. He learned to channel his emotions into his work if he wanted approval from this strict dude. 

But that was easier said than done as hot tears pierced Dick’s eyes. He looked away to hide them because he didn’t want Bruce to think he was more hurt when he was upset. Still, Dick heard an audible “uh-” from Bruce. 

“Fine,” Dick interrupted, arms crossed as he walked to a cleaning cupboard. “I'll do it.” He wiped his eyes quickly and grabbed a sponge and soap. He didn't want to seem noncompliant. 

He felt Bruce slowly make his way to Dick to either unnecessarily ground him or awkwardly comfort him. Dick didn't want or need either, he could handle simple orders. 

He turned around on Bruce, looking straight into the cowl that loomed over him. 

“You're right. I'll do the work. And tomorrow everything will be ready for patrol,” Dick offered with a smile to prove his smooth maturity. 

Batman paused a moment, gave a single nod, then made his way to his patrol car. He paused before getting in to speak out to Dick. 

“Just because it's inconvenient doesn't mean it's not important. Or that it's a punishment.” Dick rolled his eyes knowing Bruce could only see his back. “The small work we do to prepare our environment is just as important as the work we do on the field. Oftentimes, more. Remember that.”

Dick rolled his eyes again, but this time simply out of spite. He still held on to the conversation, knowing he was going to think it over simply because Bruce told him to.

“Show him, don't just do it for him,” Dick heard Bruce tell Alfred.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he heard Alfred casually reply. 

  
\--

_ Now. _

 

The flashback of that night rolled through Dick’s memory as he saw the glorious mess that was the resource library. There were open books and half eaten pb&j sandwiches everywhere, with highlighters and empty cups garnishing the scene. 

Bruce was going to be pissed. 

_ Shit _ , Dick processed as he remembered he was pressed against time to quantify the number of elder murders in Boise, Idaho during the 1840s for Bruce's newest hunch concerning the case he and the new Robin were working. 

He scanned the back shelves that categorized his topic and sure enough, all of the Idaho records under “Murders, Confirmed” were off the shelf. Dick turned to the tables with the piles of books first and hopped over messes to find what he was looking for. And there, right under the opened “Idaho Murders, Confirmed: 1815-1835” was the book he was looking for.

After 20 minutes, he called Bruce back. He rattled the numbers and years of kills by strangulation, then told him the pattern he deciphered. 

“Thank you,” Bruce said.

“I told you I almost had it,” Dick heard a far-off grumble before the line went dead. 

That must've been the new kid. Jason. 

Dick swallowed his pride and literally shook the bitterness of being replaced out of his mind.

He looked around the room and, seeing the mess around and considering the fact that his girlfriend’s trip to Brazil left his afternoon open, decided to make himself useful. He knew Bruce requested Alfred to take care of a sick Lois while Superman was off world, so the Robin duties wouldn't’ve been covered for a while like they once were when Dick got too busy. 

He figured he could help the new kid out in avoiding a petty argument with Bruce about cleanliness when they returned from their mission; those were always the worst. 

After the resource library was back in its place, Dick moved his way out to the main part of the cave. He took out the mop and bucket and did Alfred proud. 

_There_ , Dick mentally spoke to Robin once he deemed “the Robin Duties,” and more, done. _That should buy you at least two weeks of cleaning-free work_ _before it gets back to being bad._

  
\--

_ Two nights later. _

 

Dick had been tailing the gun dealer for about two hours. The man was good. He didn't use the same burner for more than two calls and only used them to set up “appointments,” no crucial information was passed through the phone, and even meetups were brief and completely coded. Normally, Nightwing would let things unravel at their pace, but it was about to be four in the morning. He was sleepy, he was hungry, and he wanted to get the interrogation over with, but the man would not leave Quik Gotham, “Where justice fries are served!” 

The wifi-stealer finally paid for his coffee and started leaving the fast food restaurant. But just as Nightwing was getting ready to pull the man into the alley, a line flew above from the roof straight towards him. Nightwing heard it in time, tucking and rolling away before he was hit. When he turned around, he realized it was a catch line, and it wrapped around his lead suspect and pulled him up to the roof with nothing more than a sudden gasp.

“What the hell?” Dick asked as he made his way up as quickly as possible.

When he finally got all the way to the roof, he saw Robin holding a sharpened batarang to the tied-up dealer's throat. 

“Who are you selling the bumps to?” Robin yelled at an aggressive pitch that was much forcibly lower than it was typically. 

“I- I dont-” the man whimpered, showing just how easy he was going to break. 

But for an easy break, Robin was holding the knife a little too deep into the man's skin for Nightwing’s liking. 

“The hell are you doing?” Nightwing called out as he got closer. He wasn't sure if physical interference would do more good than harm in the short and long run. “Get off him!”

Robin ignored him. 

“Tell me!” The batarang cut a little deeper and the man yelled at the pain.

“Shit okay! Okay! Just lay off!” 

The knife pushed deeper.

“OKAY!”

“Knock it off, Robin!” Nightwing reacted to the fear in the man's eye contact. 

“It's a rich kid from Virginia!” The man screamed when he swore he felt the bleeding start. “Heir to the Malton hotels, comes to Gotham on the weekends to sell to high school gangs!” 

Robin kept the knife there as the confession made its way through the air. 

Finally, Robin spoke. 

“You're welcome,” he said with a smirk as he pocketed the batarang and started making his way off the roof, leaving Nightwing to clean the mess without a single glance. 

“Wait, you little fu-,”

Robin jumped to the next building impressively then stopped on the edge, letting Nightwing do the same on his respective roof.    
  
“Noticed you helped with my work when nobody asked,” Robin called out through the distance. “Figured I’d return the favor.” And with that he fell into the shadows. 

Dick decided then and there he wasn’t going to meddle in the kid’s life ever again. Not a word of mentorship, not a case update, and not a single tracking device; Dick was sure Jason could handle himself all on his own.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore that conflict between people that feel validated by doing things for others for attention and people that believe favors are a double edge sham meant to make you feel incompetent. Hope that came through a bit, please let me know what y'all think!


End file.
